


I'm Out Of My Head

by ModernCoffee



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Fun, Gen, Hermitcraft - Freeform, Its nice, So yay!, i rlly hope everyone enjoys this, ive worked on making this as respectful and chill as possible, just to avoid discourse, oh boy i finally come out of nowhere to start posting a fanfic ive been working on, the hermitgirls chill out together, zombie apocalypse AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21692785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ModernCoffee/pseuds/ModernCoffee
Summary: "This is okay- we don't have much space here but we can make this work!" the ginger-haired pale woman says through clenched teeth as her personal space is smushed by other people. This is far from okay. The sound of the undead outside makes Cleo clench her teeth harder. Everything WAS fine, but life doesn't let things stay content for long.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

The sound of birds talking are the only thing that makes the place seem alive; other than the looming trees, mossy pathways and vine choked bushes. A brunette quietly walks along the path, avoiding sticks, twigs, anything that could create sound if she were to touch it in any way.

She lets out a breath of relief when she sees a small, man made cottage --- Well, a building that they tried their hardest to make as a cottage, but rather it came out more like a brick and wooden house, with a rather wobbly looking roof. She had to admit to herself, they collectively weren’t the best builders around. Light green eyes pierce through her from the window, softening up upon noticing the brunette. The woman waves, causing herself to wave back. She opens the door, humming. “Ah home sweet homeeee” She calls, the woman from the window giggling softly. “How was the scout?” “As good as you can imagine.”

“Bummer” the ginger haired woman responds, poking her tongue out.  
“Welcome home, Stress!” A smoother voice says, another brunette walking into the kitchen area --- which is where the front door enters. Again, not the greatest builders or floor planners; the place is rather open plan after all. “Thank you Falsie” Stress gives False a one arm hug, untying her hair and plopping herself in a chair. “I did notice that there wasn’ many zombles. Eerily quiet today” Stress fiddles with her fingers. “I’ll scout later, I know we don’t do 4 scouts a day but that sounds a little.. Concerning” the other woman responds. “You don’t have to Cleo- it’s fine love-” Cleo’s rumble of a laugh cuts Stress’s sentence, as she shakes her head. “I need some more fresh air anyway.”

Stress helps False cut and scrub a few vegetables, recently picked from their garden. “Do you think we should be worried?” Stress asks quietly. False stops scrubbing a potato, turning to side-eye Stress. “You alright? You seemed rather spooked when you got back” False asks, deflecting Stress’s question. Stress doesn’t respond, instead cutting a carrot with shaky hands. After a minute of silence, False decides to speak as she goes back to scrubbing potatoes. “Did you see something out there Stress?” there’s a brief silence before Stress finally says something. “No no! I just-- I have a bad feelin’ is all” her voice is noticeably shaky as she speaks, and False hums in response, getting the message of stopping the pursuit of getting information out of Stress; to drop the conversation.

Stress drops the carrots and potatoes into separate pots on the tidy little wood-fire stove, letting them both cook away slowly so when Cleo gets back it’s ready. The sound of the wind picking up bothers her slightly, feeding her concern. She can hear False humming a tune to herself in the lounge quietly, knitting something most likely. After finding a stash of wool when they first met, False had taken up knitting as a pastime, as well as a way of making necessities like clothing and blankets. Stress doesn’t understand how False has the patience, but then again there’s only so much you can do to pass the time, especially when it’s starting to get dark. Of course, Stress usually tends to the garden or works on making bread, but it’s harder to do that in the dark.

Stress writes down ‘completing the wall’ on the top of a to-do list that has many things already crossed out. Once the stone wall is done, then Stress can start tending to the garden more into the evening, as well as work on other projects; mining and resource gathering --- but she only does those with False or Cleo. Usually Cleo.

It’s rather silent outside, dark with barely any light from the barely new moon when they hear rattling and a frantic yelp before the door swings open and slams shut. False jumps to her feet, grabbing the homemade dagger from her pocket as she glances at the door, only to see Cleo shaking as she leans against the door, breathing raggedly.

“We have a problem. A massive problem.”


	2. 3 is a party, 6 is a riot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her usual morning routine aside from waking up on the couch is abruptly disturbed before she even gets the chance to start her routine; the door slamming open violently throwing her well out of a sleepy daze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hello khldjdk ill be posting chapters every 2-3 days, maybe sooner. theyre all written and ready to be posted but i want to release each chapter with a couple days gap between each so,, ye

Stress quietly dishes up dinner as False and Cleo talk, Cleo rambling about what she saw, her whole frame shaking. “Here love, eat up” Stress mumbles, putting a bowl of vegetable stew in front of Cleo. Cleo thanks her quietly, as Stress places her own bowl as well as Falses’ bowl on the table.

“I haven’t- I haven’t seen other humans in who knows how long!” Cleo exclaims, False raises an eyebrow. “Mhm.. so, what, just a small group of people? Did they seem dangerous?”  
“Not quite. They were fighting off a swarm of zombies so I couldn’t really tell” Cleo thrums her fingers against the table, the comfort of hearing her fingers softly hit the surface making her feel more relaxed.  
“So what’a we do?” Stress asks, eating a piece of potato slowly. False had already finished, now knitting at the table, the sticks making a clicking sound every time they collided as False worked away at a new scarf.  
“Maybe wait.. If they are dangerous we can always convince them to spare us, I mean like, look at us. We’ve built a house, we’ve got a garden, we mine, we’re rather handy workers” False mumbles mostly to herself, but loud enough for Cleo and Stress to hear. “Mm you’re not wrong there” Cleo responds, stretching as she stands up.  
“I’ll be on watch for the first part tonight” Stress says, her tone of voice showing no sign of budging on it. False sighs, nodding. “Alright Stress, I’m going to sleep then” False yawns, smiling softly. “Night Cleo, Night Stress.”  
“Goodnight!”  
“Night”

Silence fills the room apart from False's footsteps echoing as she walks down the hallway to her room. Cleo mumbles quietly to herself as she wanders round the lounge, looking for her trusty ol' journal.  
There's only so much you can do when your dream of being a boat driver is shattered with what is considerably the end of the world. Well, maybe not end of the world --- end of humans and what is known as humanity as a whole is more spot on.

"What did the others look 'ike?" Stress breaks the silence with her question. Cleo chews on the inside of her cheek before answering. "One of them was.. rather tall? Very unkept moustache, looked terrible really. There were a couple others but I didn't really see them" Cleo chuckles to herself once she's finished responding, remembering the exhausted, yet somewhat fearful look the man had, covered in soil and what seemed to be old blood; likely from killing all the zombies. “I’m thinkin’ of meeting them tomorrow. Stake them out, see if they’re dangerous” Cleo says to no one, rather talking to herself than to Stress.  
“What if they’re dangerous?”  
“I have a dagger, it’ll be fineee”  
“Cleo- You could risk your life by meeting these people. Remember last time?” Stress shudders at the memory, quickly shoving back the reminders of what happened into the corner of her mind.  
“Pfft- yeah, like that scrawny dude is going to be able to hurt me” Cleo says with a scoff. Stress gives Cleo a wonky smile, the room once again filling with silence.

The new dawn cracks the sky apart as the rays of the sun very quickly come to life, the group effort of a natures’ choir is all you can hear aside from the snoring from within the house, and the sound of someone grumbling as they prepare to make breakfast.

Stress yawns tiredly, looking around from the couch. She lets out an involuntary groan, her back aching from sleeping on such an uncomfortable surface. “Morning, Stress” False says as she looks over her shoulder to glance at Stress. Stress makes a sound of acknowledgement as she sits up, stretching. Her usual morning routine aside from waking up on the couch is abruptly disturbed before she even gets the chance to start her routine; the door slamming open violently throwing her well out of a sleepy daze.

False yelps, whirling round with a wooden spoon in her hand as she faces the intruders. “We’re so sorry!” A voice shouts as a few people tumblr through the door that had just been slammed open, the sound of zombies drifting behind them.

Cleo’s surprised and rather exhausted gasp signals that she had been woken by the noise, looking wide-eyed at the scene before her; Stress frozen in shock in front of the couch, False holding a wooden spoon above her ready to whack the nearest person, while intruders rush and trip as they scramble inside. Cleo very clearly sees why, a nasty pack of the undead on their tail.   
“Fuck.”


	3. to put it simply: False is Not Impressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To say False is pissed off is an understatement. She is Fuming. After having to slowly knock down each undead one by one, she genuinely wants to rip her hair out. As well as 3 other beings hair out. Her glare cuts through the intruders like the dangerous, icy cold sea during a storm.

To say False is pissed off is an understatement. She is Fuming. After having to slowly knock down each undead one by one, she genuinely wants to rip her hair out. As well as 3 other beings hair out. Her glare cuts through the intruders like the dangerous, icy cold sea during a storm.

“We- we’re so, so sorry” a moustached man mumbles, chuckling nervously as he eyes Stress; who’s frankly looking about ready to call it a day. “Why did you think it was a good idea, of all things, to almost take down someone’s door -- someone you don’t even fucking KNOW -- and burst into their house?” False says through clenched, strained teeth. Stress wonders if offering False something soft to grind her teeth against is appropriate in this current situation. She decides against it, for the sake of not having her head bit off.

The other two people next to the moustached man, both look rather disheveled. One of them takes over as if he lead the group to their house, taking the lead and admitting ownership to the chaos that had just been caused.

Cleo gathers it’s been an hour. An hour of discussing and bargaining. Bargaining as in the 3 men in the house offering to do whatever work that needs to be done so they can stay; and frankly, doing so keeps them alive. Basically bargaining their lives. The idea that this is happening makes Cleo chuckle. She has never been a believer of these plotlines happening in real life as they happen on tv, but here she is, witnessing it in person.

All three of them had come to the agreement that Mumbo was definitely a fake name. The other two going by Xisuma and Joe, were names a lot more convincing. In reality, whether their names were fake or not didn’t matter. False and Stress are weird names, so why should they judge the name Mumbo? Plus, it’s easier to leave the past behind when you introduce yourself with a different name to new people; easier when life had spun a wheel of ‘What trauma should I cause!’ and it had happened to land on the rising of the dead.

False mumbles about harvesting the crops outside, Stress jumping up excitedly. “Oh yes! I haven’t had a chance to tend to them today!” she exclaims, rushing to the door. She cautiously opens the door, despite the knowledge that False had definitely killed them all, you can never be too safe.  
Upon seeing that it was safe to emerge, she scuttles outside over to some of the crop patches. Joe, out of interest, follows. He spots the newly sprouted carrots from the door, humming. “Carrots.. Interesting choice. Aren’t potatoes more hardy than Carrots? Like how Thyme is a hardier herb than mint?” He asks. Stress jumps in surprise, laughing softly. “Good Gods you scared me! Carrot seeds were the only seeds I could scavenge aside from broccoli” she replies, grinning as she looks at Joe.

Joe walks over to her, staring at the carrots. “I’m surprised they’ve even lived this long. How did you find seeds?”  
“On the way to this area, I had passed a hardware store that had an outdoor and garden section. Grabbed what I could” her voice became softer upon recalling the memory. Joe hums appreciatively when Stress tells him, thinking back to before this mess started.

They both ignore the bickering inside, taking the time to both tend to the crops littered around the outside of the house.

“Complete the wall?” Xisuma reads out from the messy writing on the wall. “Yeah uh - thats our ‘to do’ wall. Stress wants to get the wall or fence, or whatever you call it finished so she can work on the garden without feeling as scared” False answers the unasked question, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Ah, I see” Xisuma replies, nodding understandably. He scratches his chin to distract himself from the feeling of False staring at him intensely. Cleo coughs awkwardly, trying to think of something to say.

“How about we uh… we make a roster! Yeah!” Cleo laughs nervously, fidgeting with her fingers. “So we all take turns doing certain stuff and- and- yeah-” Cleo continues on, sweating slightly.

It’s safe to say that Mumbo is not the cleanest cook. False feels like she’s on the verge of losing her mind, her head pounding as she monitors Mumbos’ every move. So far he’s dropped a plate, almost cut his finger off and wasted a perfectly good onion by dropping it on the floor and somehow stepping on it. False used to believe she had lots of patience, that she was an incredibly patient and understanding person. Mumbo has really shot that belief into the sun.

False has to admit though, while he is digging an early grave for her due to stress, he is rather charming. Charming in the sense of he’s got a good sense of humor despite being awkward. Charming in a ‘I want to be friends’ kind of way.  
“Mumbo, be careful with the carrots- you don’t want to overcook them!” False says tensely, carefully checking the carrots. “How is the fish coming along?” the silence answers her question, as she glances at mumbo while putting the pot of carrots off the stove.  
“It- it could be going a lot better” He laughs nervously, awkwardly flipping one of the fish in the pan.

“Right, I’m teaching you how to cook properly tomorrow.” False’s tone leaves no room for argument, Mumbo sagely nods. “Fine” he grumbles, accepting his fate.

Dinner tasted burnt to put it lightly. Cleo scowled at her plate. “What even happened?” Cleo questions, prodding the fish with a look of disgust and shock. She has never been concerned about her food, food is food in the apocalypse. You just had to be grateful for even having food.  
“Mumbo helped me cook!” False replies, Mumbo giving an awkward, apologetic smile.  
“Oh I see.. Well uh. You did- you did a decent job” Cleo mumbles, coughing awkwardly as anxiety boils in her stomach.

The table is quiet for a while, before Xisuma breaks the silence. “Should we make that rooster now?”  
Stress nods, chewing thoughtfully. “Well, we got’a list of what to finish. I usually do the gardenin’ and make our loaves of bread”  
“Yeah and Stress makes the best bread” False giggles. “I cook and I tend to do mining often. Also resource gathering.”  
“And um- I- I do whatever needs to be done really” Cleo says rather loudly without meaning to.

“What about Mining?” Xisuma asks. Mumbo gives him a confused look, as he munches on some of the fish.  
“I tend to do it” Cleo responds, shrugging.

Stress finishes her plate, getting up swiftly. “You guys can all jus’ squeeze your way into our routines” she says animatedly as she puts her plate in the sink, using the makeshift tap to rinse the plate. “We all ‘ave our own little to do lists in general loves, and if something needs to be done but everyone is too busy? You do it.”


	4. too many people

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We didn't want to leave but it.. it wasn't safe."  
> Cleo nods softly. "That's stupid of your leader… I'm sorry you went through that."  
> Mumbo smiles gently at Cleo, tears in his eyes.

It had gotten cold overnight. Cold as in ice cold. Absolutely frigid cold. Xisuma groans, trying to move to stretch only to realize that someone was clinging to him and partially lying on top of him. He sighs, looking at Mumbo briefly. Mumbo was originally on the floor with blankets, but Xisuma gathers it got too cold and Mumbo decided to huddle for warmth. Nothing new there.

“Mornin ‘ove birds” Stress says somewhat energetically, her shirt and hands a little muddy. Mumbo snores slightly, and Xisuma shakes him awake. “Wh-hm?” Mumbo squints, looking up confusedly. “What happened to you?” Xisuma asks Stress once he notices the dirt.  
“Joe found a Strawberry plant.”  
“Oh neat.”  
Mumbo grumbles when Xisuma moves, shoving Mumbo off him softly so he can stand up.

Mumbo notices the sound of clinking, the sound of stone against stone, as he sits up. Xisuma is in front of him, stretching. Mumbo makes an annoyed sound at Xisuma. “What’s going on outside?” Mumbo prys, not willing to officially get up from his spot. “Cleo’s working on the wall” Stress responds nonchalantly, humming. “Want to help me with the garden?” Stress asks. Mumbo nods tiredly. “Give me a minute to wake up first.”

False feels better now that she’s away from the noise, the clutter. Too many people in the small home that now feels violated. False takes a deep breath as she walks down the worn path, it’s a few minutes long of a walk, so worn out as it’s where they go for picnics on occasion.

The warmth of the sun fights back the bite of the cold wind. She settles on a root of the tree, overlooking the world below the cliff.

False bites her lip as she lets herself dwell on old memories; of good and bad. As she lets herself slip into the endless sea of emotions in her chest. She feels the ache of grief as she thinks of Ren. Ren, her childhood friend. Ren, who tried to keep her safe. Ren, who went missing.

She doesn't know how to feel about having three random strangers in the house. She feels the anxiety and self-doubt from Cleo whenever Cleo is around the strangers. 'Can't blame her, the house doesn't feel as safe as it did before they arrived' False thinks to herself, sighing heavily.

False Doesn't notice the weary gaze of someone in the distance.

Nor does she notice when the sun starts to set, her breathing deep and steady.

-

Cleo leans back in her chair, giving Mumbo a raised eyebrow glance. It's just the two of them at the moment, the others having gone searching for False when False didn't turn up by sunset.

"How did you three even get here?" Cleo quizzes, staring at Mumbo suspiciously.

"We ran- ran from a survivor camp"

His response makes Cleo feel on edge. "Why the hell would you lucky bastards leave a camp? Don't survivor camps have like, hot water for showers?" Cleo chuckles to ease how judgemental she sounds.

"The leader; Doc. He hid uh. He hid the fact he had been bitten by a zombie" Mumbo says quietly, fidgeting with his fingers.  
"We didn't want to leave but it.. it wasn't safe."  
Cleo nods softly. "That's stupid of your leader… I'm sorry you went through that."  
Mumbo smiles gently at Cleo, tears in his eyes.

"I miss my friends more than anything" he quips, shaking his head slightly.  
"I can imagine. Well, you can consider me your friend if it helps?"

It did, in fact, help.


	5. Dread is an instinct, not a feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He jumps when a bird falls from above, dead, a stone following it. A dreadful feeling swirls in his stomach, and he turns around heaving. False and Joe crowd him, asking if he’s ok. He tries to reassure them he’s fine, which works for Joe, but False is still hovering.

Joe hums to himself, keeping a close eye on his surroundings as he walks next to Stress, Xisuma trailing behind.

"Does she often disappear?"  
"Sometimes she goes to our picnic area when she needs some space" Stress answers, leading them down the worn, dry dirt path.

Xisuma is silent the entire time, feeling uneasy; as if someone else is with them.

"How much further? I feel watched" Xisuma grumbles, looking around and behind him.

Not much further thankfully, the clearing appearing seconds after Xisumas' words. Stress sighs in relief when she sees False asleep against the tree. "Oh thank goodness.." Stress’s sentence trails off as she notices a piece of paper under False's foot. "Hey Joe, can you grab that piece of paper for me love?" Stress asks as she starts picking up False bridal style. Joe nods. "Of course" he picks it up as soon as False is no longer holding it down with her foot.

The walk back home is silent as Stress stares worriedly at her friend.

Stress immediately tucks False into bed when they get home. Stress picks at the sides of her fingernails a little from stress and anxiety.

"Where did you get that?" Cleo asks Joe from the couch, staring at the piece of paper in his hand.  
"From False. It was under her foot" he says with a shrug, giving Cleo a quizzical look. "I'm waiting for Stress before we read it" he continues. Cleo nods.

Mumbo is scribbling notes in his crumpled and messy notebook, not paying attention to the people around him.

Stress quietly walks into the lounge from the hallway. "False is tucked in, still fast asleep" Stress feels weary, the tired sort of weary. "What's on the paper?"

Joe takes a moment to read what's on the paper, trying to decipher the scribbled writing.  
"North from camp, blonde girl asleep at a tree. I think I've found another settlement, otherwise someone's at death's doorstep. Gah spelling errors-" Joe reads out, snorting at the end part.

"So the note wasn't intentional? Must've been blown by the wind then" Xisuma thinks out loud to himself. "That note feels threatening though.. north of.." Xisuma goes silent, blanching.

"North of what?"  
Cleo looks between Xisuma and Mumbo with an almost knowing gaze in her eyes. Joe realizes exactly what Xisuma has realised, and suddenly the room feels far too small. Far too small and far too crowded.

Stress looks at everyone confusedly, upon noticing she's out of the loop about something. "Tell me. What are you all hiding" Stress demands, her brown eyes somehow becoming cold rather than warm.

Mumbo perks his head up, Stress's frustrated tone pulling him out of his deep thinking. His face shows surprise at suddenly realizing everyone has come back.  
"Found False?"  
"Yeah, and a note"  
"I mean it. Tell me what the hell north from what is!" Stress has raised her voice significantly, frustration and anxiety making her voice rougher.  
Joe gives Mumbo the note, as Xisuma tries to calm Stress down.

"Wait you mean north of moncamp 77?" Mumbo blurts in surprise. "Did someone follow us?"  
"What Do You Mean ‘Follow Us’'?!" Stress exclaims loudly, shaking. Xisuma quietly wraps his arm around her shoulder, trying to get her to relax and calm down.

"Let's just calm down and talk about this in the morning" Cleo cuts in, looking tired. "Boys, you can try cram into my bed, I'll share with Stress. Gotta make sure she doesn't sneak out and murder you all" Cleo says with a chuckle and a wink, trying to lift the mood a little. Mumbo gives Cleo a nervous look at her joke. “Night” Xisuma responds, others mimicking his response.

Waking up felt more than dreadful for the first time in a year. Cleo heaves under the immediate slap of pure stress and anxiety she experiences upon consciousness, the feeling of Stress groaning grumpily next to her helps ease the sudden slap of dread. She doesn’t move, letting her breath even out.  
Stress looks over at Cleo, something akin to determination glinting in her eyes. The sun is relentless as it shines down on both of them. “Finally.. Some quiet for once” Cleo says softly. Stress chuckles quietly next to her, nodding. “Yeah, finally.”

The silence is broken after a minute or so, as False comes home from being out on morning patrol. By the sound of her footsteps, Cleo is willing to bet she’s stressed out. Nothing new, obviously, but the stress coming from False is suffocating this time ‘round.  
Cleo ignores the sounds of more footsteps, most likely one of the new ‘intruders’. She scoffs at herself at the word Intruders. If Stress had heard her call them intruders, she would’ve gotten a little slap on the arm for being rude.  
Stress quietly sits up next to her, running a hand through her messy, unkept short hair before getting up. “I’m gonna get started on making breakfast.. See you out soon” Stress mumbles, chucking on a nearby sweater over her t-shirt and shorts. Cleo nods, letting out the heavy sigh once she leaves.  
Cleo looks at the ceiling. Her chest feels far too heavy, her limbs feeling like deadweight. ‘I don’t want to deal with this.. Anymore’ she thinks to herself, rubbing her face with her hands.  
She forces herself to sit up, even if it feels almost impossible. She hates days like these, where everything feels overwhelming and her body feels impossibly heavy. Depression. A Bitch to live with, but something that can’t be rid of, despite all efforts.

The noise in the living room and kitchen become louder after a while, as Cleo sits tiredly in bed. She knows she has to get up, there’s things to do, things that need to be finished or worked on. ‘For the kids’ a thought whispers to her, and she nods, as if the voice behind the thought was real. For her kids back at the old Primary school she taught at. For them she will keep going. She doesn’t let herself question how they’re doing now, if any are still alive.

Mumbo looks up as he hears someone walking into the open area, seeing Cleo. He grins, mumbling a quiet ‘Morning’ to her. ‘Cleo looks exhausted..’ he muses, a frown setting in. Cleo raises an eyebrow at the frown Mumbo gives her. “What's that look for, moustache?” she grumbles, almost growls, as her expression turns into a scowl.  
“Did you get any sleep?” Mumbo asks hesitantly, trying to neutralize his expression before Cleo assumes its judgement.  
“Yeah, I did. Whether I did or not is none of your business regardless” Cleo walks over to the kitchen counter, grabbing a cold slice of quiche and eating it. Between mouthfuls, she asks Mumbo where everyone else has gone.  
“False is showing Xisuma and Joe the Mining site, I believe Stress is gardening.”  
“I should work on the wall then” Cleo looks out the window behind Mumbo, the sun glaring through the leaves of the big trees that overshadow the area. She shoves the rest of the quiche in her mouth as she heads outside, nodding towards Stress who waves at her from across their so-called yard. She picks up a nearby rock and the liquified clay before getting to work, embracing the warmth of the sun.

Xisuma wasn’t feeling okay in the slightest. In-fact, the nausea he had been ignoring all morning comes to a front full force, making him have to steady himself on a nearby boulder. He’s grateful that no one notices. He can’t seem to focus on the words being said around him, as he pretends to be resting in the shade rather than feeling like he’s dying from a fever. Maybe he does have a fever? ‘I don’t want to be put in a vulnerable position like that’ he thinks to himself, also not wanting to use their resources. They had barged in out of nowhere after all.  
He jumps when a bird falls from above, dead, a stone following it. A dreadful feeling swirls in his stomach, and he turns around heaving. False and Joe crowd him, asking if he’s ok. He tries to reassure them he’s fine, which works for Joe, but False is still hovering.  
“How about we go back and have some lunch? It might be heatstroke. It is the middle of summer..” False suggests, and Xisuma nods despite wanting to decline.  
Joe and False help him back home, Xisuma feeling the dread mount with each step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOWIE THE LAST TIME I UPDATED THIS FIC WAS IN 2019 WHAT


End file.
